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What Happens After Fran

December 3, 2013

 

 

So if you are reading this, you either fall into one of three categories: 1) You, like me, also chose to brave CrossFit’s poster child workout when you saw it programmed today, knowing full well that you were setting yourself up for a day of post workout misery. 2) You didn’t know you were doing the epitome of 10 years hard time in a coal mine today until you arrived at the gym and looked at the white board, but chose to stay and “power through” to see what all the commotion was about. I pity you most. 3) You purposely avoided the gym so you could avoid feeling like you have pneumonia for the rest of the week, or you truly couldn’t make it to the gym to for completely legitimate reasons; either way you can’t consider yourself fortunate and instead live vicariously through this post. It is my hope that thanks to my recount, you forever revel in appreciation of the battle that was fought, and lost, in our community today.

 

The following is a time-lapse breakdown of what I experienced physically and emotionally post-Fran. Feel free to judge, empathize, or thank your lucky stars you missed the hurt.

 

Immediately upon finishing Fran: “Thank the heavenly father I’m done! It’s over.” I eagerly glance at the clock to look at how long I was in oxygen deprivation…“THAT’S MY TIME?!?! Well, piss. Couple disappointment with my gasping like the gold fish out of water in those horribly depressing asthma commercials. I DON’T EVEN FEEL THAT FATIGUED!!! Clearly I didn’t push myself hard enough.” – Famous last words.

 

5 seconds post Fran: “What is happening? How did I end up on the ground? I’m not complaining, in fact I might just stay here, maybe build a summer home. Or I might just close my eyes and embrace the white light.  Am I even getting oxygen in these breaths?! Oh great hear comes Coach Dan…(he’s been done for a while). Go away, I don’t want to give you a high five, I just want to lay here and feel my blood pump oxygen back into my what feels like deflated lungs. What’s that he’s screaming over the music? Wait has that song been playing the whole time? Get up and walk around he says? HA! There’s a better chance of Rich Froning ending up as a contestant on The Biggest Loser. Not gonna happen…Oh so you’re gonna help me to my feet? Well if you insist.”  I struggle to my feet with Dan’s assistance and stumble towards the door.

 

15 seconds post Fran: “Well Dan I’m outside walking around. Oh hey! There goes Karen, looks like she’s walking a 200m. Maybe I’ll go join her. Take a couple steps. Nope. Definitely just going to stumble around the front the building wheezing like that kid with the inhaler from Hey Arnold.” After a few steps I’m doubled over with my hands on my knees, trying to process if I have any physical maladies other than still not being able to catch my breath. It’s at this point I become aware of my forearms. “Oh hello there! Good to know I still have two extremities attached to this breathing torso. I can’t really feel my legs yet. I guess I could learn to walk on my hands if I suffered some freak nerve damage during the workout.”

 

1 minute post Fran: “Whew. Ok I can feel my legs again. And my arms are already starting to feel less like swollen stumps and more like working body parts. And I can sort of breathe close to normal again. I think I’m good to go back inside and assess the scene.”

 

3 minutes post Fran: Returning inside I see that Mary and Jurney are almost finished. Dan is walking around seemingly unfazed and my suspicion that he’s not human is reaffirmed.At this point I actually think I’m feeling mostly recovered. “It kinda hurts to breathe but at least I feel sentient again.”

 

6 minutes post Fran: “To Hell with recovered. There’s fire ants in my throat!” I don’t recall drinking acid!”  The burning in my esophagus sends me in a frenzy for the closest liquid. “I would pick today of all days to forget my water bottle.” I settle for the bathroom sink until I’ve quelled the flames enough to fetch my protein shake. It’s happens as I’m descending the stairs. One simple “Cough” and I know that I’m doomed.

 

10 minutes post Fran: I’m back outside, hacking like a weed whacker, expelling more mucus than a slug. I’m pretty sure one projectile looked exactly like the green ghost in Ghost Busters.  After several minutes and several more bouts of wracking my lungs in a futile attempt to end the flow of slime, I feel like I’m going to vomit. Thankfully, walking around seems to ease the feeling and I return inside to hear Mary explain the burning and mucus is likely the result of rupturing alveoli in the lungs. Joy.

 

20 minutes post Fran: Sitting on a box, all I want to know is why I decided it was a good idea to climb on this crazy train in the first place. There isn’t a part of me that doesn’t ache. I’m pretty sure I have lung cancer, mesothelioma, pneumonia, and black lung. And that’s when Dan gets up the nerve to start deadlifting. I want to scream, curse, cry, and more than anything just lay down. But instead I start laughing, which leads to coughing.

 

40 minutes post Fran: Still at the gym, laying on the ground. I think I’m getting hungry, but I can’t quite tell. My senses are all screwed up. There have been times I’m more functional after a night of heavy drinking. The only functional movement I’ve made in the past twenty minutes was to produce more mucus from god only knows what alveoli I have left. Talk about constantly varied.

 

1 hour post Fran: I managed to leave the gym. At the grocery store I had a coughing fit so bad that an old lady on oxygen in a scooter gave me a look of sympathy. Oh the irony.

 

2 hours post Fran: I sit on my couch and nothing has felt so glorious. I cough every time I get up, so the solution appears simple.

 

4 hours post Fran: I’m still on the couch. Throat constantly tickles, threatening. My disconnect with reality has reached the point that I’m watching MTV. And enjoying it. I’m worried.

 

8 hours post Fran: I have become one with the couch. I can safely say that delayed onset post Fran might be the equivalent of morphine. V and I have sat through Wrong Turn 4 & 5. Don’t watch them. I just don’t have the energy to care enough to change the channel.

 

 

KUDOS to all those who made it to work after Fran. I don’t know how any one else could be productive members of society. It’s safe to say the score on the day is Fran – 1, Jeff – 0. 

 

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